What if?
by Paper-Whore
Summary: What if Erik had not let Christine go?
1. Part 1

_The Phantom of the Opera_ is copyright of Gaston Leroux.

Dedicated to my wonderful Beta-reader. Without you, my stories would not exist. Welcome to the world of Phantom!

* * *

**What if?**

As Erik ever so gently placed a kiss on Christine's forehead, he realised then, that no matter how much he loved her, he would not be able to release her. He would not let her go back to the Viscomte de Chagny. That she allowed him to kiss her and even possibly leant into his kiss was not enough for him. He wanted to be able to hold her protectively in his arms. He wanted her to kiss him. He wanted to keep her as his living wife.

He had informed her that he was tired of his life under the Opéra Garnier and wanted to live like an ordinary man. He would be able to achieve the life he never had with his new mask; people would not stare at him. He would be able to live among others rather than the lair-like existence he had created for himself. He would be able to take his wife driving through the Bois-de-Boulogne during the day and allow her to see how the sunlight danced and sparkled on the waterfall like diamonds. He would be able to take her for coffees along the Champ Elysees. He would be able to watch her perform from the audience rather than the shadows.

He would make her the happiest of women, he promised himself. He would ensure that all her needs and desires were seen to. As long as she loved him, he would be the veriest gentleman. He loved Christine and was determined to do whatever necessary to ensure that she stayed with him forever.

Christine returned from her walk along the edge of the lake to find herself alone in the house. Taking the opportunity of rare solitude, she sat down at the piano and began to play. She allowed the music to wash away her problems and soon was lost in it. When a hand closed around her shoulder, she cried out in surprise.

As she stood, almost eye-to-eye with Erik, she became conscious that he was wearing the new mask he had spoken of. The new mask that he had created allowed him to look like anyone he chose. Staring down at her was her father's gentle face.

"Why?" she asked with a moan, feeling her world spin. "How could you do this to me?"

"Do what, Christine?" Erik asked in his most angelic voice as he helped her to the sofa. The affectionate smile he had bestowed on her quickly turned into a look of confusion. "What have I done to you?"

"This!" She gestured vaguely at his face. "That!"

"You would prefer that I do not wear it?" he asked, confused. "I believed you found my face to be horrifying.

"Christine, this mask offers me freedom. I have just conducted my first business transaction in person. Without this mask, I would be nothing but a ghost."

"No, no, no… It's not that." She buried her face in her hands. "I never expected to see your face again. Never expected it… I thought you were gone… Lost to me forever. Father and my Angel of Music..."

Making sense of her ramblings, Erik sat down next to her and raised her face to his. Not knowing what to say, he kissed her forehead. With a cry, Christine threw herself into his arms, taking the warmth and gentleness he offered.

* * *

Christine sat on the edge of her bed straining to hear a sound, any sound. In the three days that had passed since she had returned to Erik, very few words had been exchanged. The silence could no longer please her; she was too restless. 

Erik strolled along the edge of the lake, singing quietly to himself. This song was unlike those he had composed for _Don Juan Triumphant_. This song enveloped rather than burnt or consumed. Although it had started off melancholy, it was quickly becoming spirited and moving as he imagined Christine returning to him, loving him and saving him from his despair. He still could not make sense of the surprising way she made him feel.

Christine pushed open the door that led to the lake and smiled to herself when she saw Erik standing by the edge, absorbed in his music. Boldly, she took his cold hand and placed it on her waist. Understanding her intention immediately, he offered her his other hand to lead her in a waltz along the lake.

The strains of a waltz vibrated throughout her head, drawing her closer, both physically and mentally to her partner. She closed her eyes as she allowed him to seduce her with his music. She didn't care about anything; she just wanted to feel.

Erik closed his eyes momentarily against the rush of emotions. She had taken his hand and his heart, and as he moved in time with her, he felt his life returning to him. He let her spirit move him as he held her protectively in his arms.

After their dance, Erik gently nestled Christine's hand in the crook of his arm and led her back inside. Settling her on the sofa, he sat down at the piano and continued to weave the spell that was encircling them.

Hypnotised, Christine moved over to the piano and sat down next to him on the stool. Unable to resist, she tenderly touched his face. Erik turned to face her in surprise. As though the surrounding enchantment had caused her to lose control of her body and her actions, Christine closed the distance separating them and kissed lips.

* * *

Erik stood with Christine outside the townhouse he had recently purchased on Rue de Richelieu. 

"See! No longer will I be skulking about under the stage of the opera, angel. Now, you, my dearest living wife, and I will be living here in contentment. Come; let me show you your new home.

"It is not as draughty or cold as the house on the lake," he said as he toured her through the house. "See, the furniture is all new. It is only a short walk to the Champ Elysees, and an even shorter walk to the Opéra.

"Will you be happy living here, Christine? With the love that we share, I shall be the veriest gentleman. I will make you the happiest of women."

"I will be very happy here, Erik," Christine agreed.

Smiling proudly, Erik took Christine's hand, saying, "Come, there is still one more room to show you."

She had seen six rooms, and was in awe with what she saw. That there could be another room that was obviously more impressive than the others she had seen surprised her. As Erik threw open the door, Christine almost gasped as she took in the room with its high ceilings, velvet drapes and wainscotting. Scattered around the room was a range of instruments: a piano, organ, violin and harp. A bookcase was placed against the far wall, sheets of music and librettos lovingly placed in it.

"Here, we shall sing and we shall be happy together."

* * *

Christine offered one last smile to her audience before exiting the stage. As she made her way to her dressing room, the smile turned into a frown. Changing as quickly as possible, she was out of her costume by the time Erik arrived at her door to escort her home. 

"Well done, Christine. Not quite up to your usual standard, but never fear, the audience did not notice," Erik commented as he kissed her hand before placing it on her arm to lead her out of the opera.

When they arrived back at the townhouse several minutes later, Christine removed her from his arm and turned on him.

"Where is Raoul?" she demanded.

"The de Chagny boy?"

"Yes! No one has seen or heard from him in weeks. You know where he is and I want to know."

"He is well."

"_Well_?" she cried. "Do you love me, Erik?"

"You know I do."

"Then tell me where he is!"

"He is right where I left him; in the Opéra Garnier. In the Communists' dungeon."

"In the dungeon?" she repeated, reaching blindly for the support of the hall table. "You deceived me again! You led me to believe that he was safe at his own home."

Erik didn't respond for a long time.

"If I were in his place, would you care about me, Christine?"

"Raoul would never to anything as despicable as putting a man in the dungeons!"

"Despicable am I?" Erik demanded, as he loomed over her. "You're shaking now. You have not trembled at the sight of me in a while, dear. Is it because my brilliance has surprised you, or is it because you believe my true nature is showing? Poor Erik's monstrous, beastly nature that matches his hideous face?"

Taking courage in her anger Christine raised her chin.

"I have always trembled at the sight of you. It was never because of your brilliance. It was because of terror. I do not hate you. But nor do I love you. I never have!" She took satisfaction in his hurt expression. "I do not love you!"

Immediately Christine regretted her hastily spoken words, but was still too angry to recant them. Cursing propriety silently in her head, she threw open the front door, ignoring his plaintive sighs.

Christine dared not turn and look at him. She would not let him see how deeply his sighs affected him. Instead, she stormed down the street, tears falling down her cheeks.

Erik could feel his heart break at her cruelly spoken words, but he refused to look at or go after the woman who had harmed him. He swore at himself and all the hideous things he had said to her. Oh, he was nothing but a hideous beast. He was not worthy of a woman such as Christine.


	2. Part 2

**What if?  
Chapter 2**

Christine sat at her dressing table in her bedroom in the house of Mama Valérius. She stared blankly into the mirror, her chin resting on her hand. Her head shot up and she glanced around the room when she heard a mournful sigh echo around the room.

"Erik," she murmured to herself.

She was certain she could feel his presence in her bedroom. She thought she felt his warm breath fan across her cheek and his cold hand touch her shoulder. She thought she saw his love-filled eyes, burning deep into her soul. She was going crazy! She stood up and paced to her window where she drew the curtain aside, hoping she would see his silhouette in the moonlight, hiding behind the drapes.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered all that he had done for her and the horrible words she had flung at him. He offered her a balm to the sorrow, which had filled the last few years of her life. She knew that in his eyes, he offered her his love. He offered her warmth and safety, which could only be found in the comfort of his arms. She had betrayed him once again.

* * *

Erik moved about his townhouse on Rue-Richelieu in a black fury. He looked up and saw his reflection in one of his many vases of flowers. How he hated what he saw! Beyond the mask hiding his twisted face, he saw a hated carcass of disgust and contempt. Roaring with rage, he seized the side table and hurled it at the vase, sending glass, silver and flowers to the floor. The destruction only served to fuel his anger. 

Christine was gone; he had lost her. The pain of her betrayal cut deep. There was no hope for him. He was helpless, lost and pushed a distressing conclusion. His life was worthless. He turned on his heel and stepped through the flowers, crushing a red rose under his shoe as he made his way to the only place he had truly belonged; the place where no one knew of his existence as the monster he had always been.

He stood on the edge of the lake under the opera, staring, entranced into the black waters, hopeless. His dreams were dead. His goal to shape Christine into the best opera singer the world had ever seen was dashed. His hope that Christine would love him and be his living wife was ruined, he realised as his hand tightened painfully around Christine's shoe buckle.

Love was a chimera, he realised with a moan. He had loved Christine and hoped that she would love him too. If he couldn't love Christine, there was no one. She was the only one, the only thing that could improve him. There was no point living if Christine could not love him. There was no point. There was the only way to escape his anguished existence. He stepped closer to the dark waters…

* * *


	3. Part 2 An Alternate Ending

**What If?  
Part 2 – An Alternate Ending**

Christine sat at her dressing table in her bedroom in the house of Mama Valérius. She stared blankly into the mirror, her chin resting on her hand. Her head shot up and she glanced around the room when she heard a mournful sigh echo around the room.

"Erik," she murmured to herself.

She was certain she could feel his presence in her bedroom. She thought she felt his warm breath fan across her cheek and his cold hand touch her shoulder. She thought she saw his love-filled eyes, burning deep into her soul. She was going crazy! She stood up and paced to her window where she drew the curtain aside, hoping she would see his silhouette in the moonlight, hiding behind the drapes.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered all that he had done for her and the horrible words she had flung at him. He offered her a balm to the sorrow, which had filled the last few years of her life. She knew that in his eyes, he offered her his love. He offered her warmth and safety, which could only be found in the comfort of his arms. She had betrayed him once again.

* * *

Christine attempted to gather her cloak about her as she ran down the street to the Opéra Garnier. She had arrived back at her home – as she now thought of it – to find Erik gone. Having questioned the butler, all she learnt was that the master had left in a temper and did not give any direction or time he was expected home. 

She knew where he would be. Tears were freely flowing down her cheeks, making it difficult for her to breathe and see where she was going. Crying out loud, she stumbled on the cobblestones and fell to the ground, injuring her ankle. Rising to her feet and swiping at the tears angrily, she continued on her way to the opera house, her cloak billowing out behind her, ignoring the pain shooting up her ankle.

Pushing open the gate at the Rue-Scribe entrance, she continued on her way, pausing only long enough to retrieve the key. As she reached the lake, she scanned frantically around for Erik. She saw nothing. The waters were dark and inky, but still. The rest of the labyrinth was hidden in shadows.

As she was about to throw herself into the waters to reach the other side, she heard a moan echo around her. Crying his name, Christine desperately began to look for Erik along the edges of the lake.

"Christine," Erik sighed her name.

"Where are you, Erik? Show me!"

"I am right in front of you," he said from the other side of the lake.

"I came back from Mama Valérius' to find that you weren't at home. The butler didn't know where you were. I am crying for you and me, Erik. I am crying because I was so foolish as to hurt and betray you.

"I was worried about Raoul. I was hurt by your deceit. I wanted you to hurt too. Please, forgive me. Erik, my dearest Erik, I am sorry for what I said," she whispered.

"Ah, yes, your little de Chagny. You will always be worried about him, won't you? Never me," he spat out jealously. "You will never love me! Just go, Christine, leave me be."

"No, Erik," she retorted in a quiet voice. "I came back because I am your wife. We are happy together. I am not going to leave you; you are my husband. I do love you, Erik. But it is a brilliant kind of love. I can admit it to you now, but I cannot admit it or believe it myself. It is strange, Erik."

He looked up from the waters. His yellow eyes, shining with hope and love.

"Please, Erik"- she held out her hand to him across the lake- "it's late. I would like you to take me home."

A few moments later Christine was safe in Erik's arms as they made their way back to their townhouse. Unconsciously, Christine twirled his hair at the nape of his neck around her finger as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"That is the second time you have saved me from my despair, angel. I am terrified that if I let you go, I will not be able to continue. I am afraid I am going to die of love. I want to tell you everyday that I love you. I wish I did not have to ask your leave to tell you that I love you, Christine. I promise you, I will do whatever you wish; all I want is for you to be happy, my love," Erik said in his most sincere and pure voice.

He paused to kiss her on her forehead, only to find that she had fallen asleep in his arms. Smiling down at his living wife, he continued on his way home, his heart lighter than ever.

* * *


End file.
